Mozart’s Beak

January 16, 2019

-ONE MUST GO BEYOND TO BECOME-

Sometimes I stand in one place,
but I am not there
In this place,
you do not know me.

Screenshot_2018-03-21-23-41-37

Screenshot_2018-03-21-23-43-22

Here, my blood boils between sighing senses and a sewn In gut
Like cats teeth
I gnaw and claw at my weakest strands
Pulling apart the places where I failed to take a stand.

Screenshot_2018-03-21-23-44-47

I stand heart swelling between my pores
pushing
this scared crows beak through atmospheric places fighting for MORE!

GrouchyParallelGrayling-max-1mb
tumblr_m5hhluNKda1rnc14vo1_500.gif

Ruin and rapture, left to swim amongst the stars I soar.

tumblr_p0x7lzfqR21uh1jtjo1_500.gif

As my lips peel themselves around
Paradoxical pastries pleasurable and poisonous

IMG_20180310_012750_021
It is my insides that hemorrhage rabid &  boisterous.

Adom split, I am divided by three

egg-animation_splitcell-division-gif-3-1

dDwcItysPztZK
Frozen shelled it’s my soul that screams FREE!

giphy (2)Pouting, swollen in arrogance
It bleeds through my eyes
Where I remain is far from where my soul flies.

IMG_20150901_230936

sourcetumblr_nbvy5isVUb1tjsogwo1_500

blast

And as I sink beneath the graveled earth, devoured
by swallowing mud and loving larva

tumblr_mgp78yHpj31ro5y75o1_50024dad342e3485f896797026453dde5e0
it’s Mozart’s beak that reminds me of Nirvana

Screenshot_2018-03-21-23-44-18IMG_20180816_050241_120Screenshot_2018-03-21-23-44-57

Flapping feathers furrowed then freed above
fluffy mounds of blushed cotton,
Breeze brushing backwards beyond dreams begotten.
Tonight I dream of leaving it all, of basking in the forgotten.

IMG_20180306_030217_658

pboxtumblr_osqxigdr7p1wsphtyo1_500

And in that warm, dusk kissed light,
Horizon stretched
My insanity is etched
A thicket of desires beating through pounds of flesh.

Screenshot_2018-03-21-23-42-20
Thirsting for resurrection, I stop only to drink from my own reflection.

IMG_20180818_023304_429Screenshot_2018-03-21-23-46-26

Still stood, cold framed
Purged
And sweaty
I soar with Mozart, extending myself, creating compositions, rubbed and ready

giphy53e6b84a1338dd6c796982ab4d2fdf71
Violent they’ve become sharpened steal pointed and pinning
Forcing me to go to the beginning.

l_1efdb315d9945e88f3abb03980c5cfaacover-660x371
And in the beginning, “the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep.”
My veins weep as my breath, it leaps beyond this eternal sleep.

giphy (5)

IMG_20180310_015353_927

Sometimes I stand in one place,
but I am not there
In this place,
you do not know me.

giphy (4).gif

Screenshot_2018-03-21-23-43-31

But should you look upon my pushed past in present face

Screenshot_2018-03-21-23-43-48
There you’ll find, entombed inside gorged lids, my soul, the God of impenetrable space.  beakMOZ1

original

By: Magnolia Lafleur

What is Bliss?

September 14, 2018

 

But to have ones heart saturated with all the best ingredients.

Chocolate powder, swirled into crystal cubed, brown sugar bumps.

Mixed with chilled white milk and

Stirred inside endless clarity;

Only to be baked into a soft edible fever.

Coated with crying, frothed cream,

just happy to be apart of something.

Half-done, half- raw, half -baked, all-together.

Dreaming of filling in the space  of unsealed lips.

If for nothing else, isn’t this why we exist?

 

Tumblr_mdzhi9hlrk1rluawwo1_500_large

 

 By: Magnolia
 

Stuck Outside the Dream

September 2, 2013

How does one determined the line between dream and reality?

 This tells the story of an old woman who has spent her time in sleep building a relationship with a man who is deemed, in our concept of reality, a dream. She contemplates whether his ability to prevail so tangibly in her existence is due to them having a love that stands the test of time, society’s notion of reality and reincarnation itself. These are the thoughts of a woman ” Stuck Outside the Dream.”

Faint as a memory, vivid as a dream,
That’s how I remember him.
His hands firm, ironed to fit the concaves of my weathered skin.
His love vivid, shaped to illuminate the shadows of my being.
He was a soft vision, only unlike any phantom I had ever seen,
For I had felt his touch.
His hair always smelt of plucked roses, a soap given to him on our 20th Anniversary.
His lips, provoked by the beat of my heart, were always filled with the vowels of kings.
But at times, when I’m awake, I can’t help but wonder, hath my senses played a trick on me?
Am I interwoven inside the womb of  my own insanity?

 In love inside two worlds, I, we, both were trapped.
A communion derailed by the coming of the sun and the yawning of the moon.
In my sleep and in his awake I am found.
My life with him permeates of promethean heat, of longings quenched, of  rapturous immortality.
The pleasure of his skin stacked upon my soul only deadens my being when I arise in the day.
For empty is my bed and I just a mere lump of clay.
Alone, it is intolerable, for one cannot function & absorb the torture of blocked possibility.
So I have chosen to live in sanity.
For what’s  a dreamer to do when trapped inside their awake,

but to bridge the gap, rescue the dream from being lost, at stake.
The origins of this life that exists inside black lids, I know not of.
Perhaps a love, so benevolent, a man, a spirit  so prodigious, that no conceivable birth from nature, reincarnation itself, can interrupt.
Conquered, our breath hath focused its way through time.
Pillaging the process of winter, summer, spring and fall;
We decided upon inseparability through any means at all.
And now, his reality is my dream.
Expired are the days of wanting,
As he remains surrendered to me, I shall remain my feet off ground my heart in heavens, un-yielding to my awake.
Varnished we remain, I  clinging to him, like warm bark upon a shivered tree.
For is it not in our insanity that we are truly free?

....beautifuly accepted. -Mrs. Art

Bright Lights (1925)

Alone. S)

Love this <3

dance

Black and W.H.I.T.E. by shelley

Simple and elegantly SEXY! Black and W.H.I.T.E.

Melancholy …by Iliko Kandaveli. S)

Busby BerkeleyElephants. S)

Cotillion! #blackhistory #society

Your time is now !SilhouetteRenowned Chinese dancer, Yang Li Ping, taken during an actual performance in a theatre in Kunming, China.

tulle tulle tulle

Frozen in high winds? That's some ice palace Photo by Thomas Zakowski

////

Be Happy!!!

July 7, 2013


2 THINGS: If it makes you happy, do it. If it doesn’t, then don’t.

45036_454635801257832_1204976131_n

chanel-iman-in-hm-2009-holiday-magazine-231109-1

Her Speech

April 4, 2013

By: Magnolia

Her lethargic breath was rooted in the cave of a cumbersome heart.

Standing a foot the blank podium, tethered by opportunistic strings,

was the birth of a whisper

ascended into what became, a cataclysmic thought.

Like spiraling stairs with no beginning nor end, she spoke.

“Ejected from the gorge of emotional destitution,

I have realized that I have ascribed form to an existence that is but a shadow,

if not a dream.

And while I’ve remained fixed upon my daily deeds

I have abandoned my internal needs;

Misguiding shapes inside a living tomb.

I call upon the earth to fissure beneath my brain,

To thwart an arrow into the chasm of my heart,

and to pardon this lump of clay’s weary ways.

Soil and ice, no longer will you replace permutable fog.

For truth, a concept whose doors are not open for interpretation,

alas,  has made the journey through pore and rushing blood and found its home

upon electrical wires  breathing life into a paralyzed heart.

I say, empty handed and fragmented from a self-induced illusion,

that, that which is, is not a at all, and that which is to be, is to exists inside of me.

Compelled to create prickled shapes that would garner me the world, while gazing upon a blank wall, all at the expense of my heart beat.

Fair exchange it was not.

For I have spent most of my clock devouring the irrelevant, in hopes of quenching a parched soul,

and merely numbing it in the process.

But now with exhumed vision and  frail valves,

I have but one thing I want to do, and nothing else.

With the elegance of life’s exoskeleton bewildering my eyes,

And with the seed of creation rousing a previously unemployed  heart

Through inspired skin and  resurrected possibility 

from below me and above,

my only purpose here,

is to love.

 

I can’t help but think storms are beautiful.

526404_604159932945572_929821748_n_large

“Poetry is nearer to vital truth than history.”

Plato

“Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of love, every man becomes a poet.”

Plato

“According to Plato, we don’t learn anything. Our soul has lived so many lives that we know everything. Teachers and education can only remind us of what we already know.”

Misty – Diary by Chuck Palahniuk

Tumblr_min1gvqmce1qca450o1_r1_500_large

D21166b4e51a5799aa260f1c502a91af_large

483850_592730647422883_66391836_n_large

Tumblr_mjx583av571r2gzgbo1_500_large

546161_155508987950235_1737647758_n_large

267274_large

Ed522977df2312f026db00feaaf87e7c_large

 

Through inspired skin and  resurrected possibility 

from below me and above,

my only purpose here,

is to love.